Say Your Name
by The X-Pig
Summary: On the outside, looking in. 3rd person POV. Complete! I am now taking votes for the return of the Anti-Goren.
1. 1

Disclaimer: I'm just taking them out for a test drive. I promise not to hurt the Hulk™ or the Waif™ in any permanent way. Just ask CC, I was nice to his creations, and I'll be nice to DW's too, maybe.

Thanks:To the new Beta Crew. Always there with a kind word and encouragement. Cyber-brownies all around.

A/N: So, with a new fandom, the penname might not be familiar. Quite frankly, I have been uninspired for many years and went underground, writing only for myself or not at all. Well, guess what, I'm back. Anyway, first story for a new show, so be gentle. And enjoy.

* * *

_Whenever your memory feeds my soul, whatever got broken becomes whole – Sting_

* * *

Cops can be so predictable, sometimes. Like dumb dogs, tugging away at the root of a tree, having no clue at all that what they want is attached to something much larger than themselves. I've been rolling over precinct detectives for years, weaving in and out of the criminal justice system like a world-class skier on a slalom course. I've been a person of interest in more crimes then most career criminals have thought of. But I have remained unscathed, until now. 

When that hulking mass of a Major Case detective slapped the bracelets on, I had a feeling I might actually be playing the game for my soul, this time. He had an air about him, something preternatural and slightly menacing. Okay, maybe not slightly. On the plus side, he had a lovely little waif of a partner with him. She could make a man sit up and beg. If I've got to ride with them to One PP, I hope she sits in the back with me.

No such luck. Yet another smelly Sector Car with a sticky, plastic back seat and no airflow. I'm thinking about writing a book, _The NYPD RMP for Dummies_. I could make a mint maybe go legit. Nah, where'd the fun be in that?

I'll bet you are wondering how I got here, aren't you. Well, it's taken my entire life, but I'm rapidly approaching infamy. This go around the dance floor, however, is where I will start, since the rest is all water under the bridge and of little importance in the grander scheme of things.

I like expensive things, the type of thing that rich people horde and poor people drool over. The types of things that tend to be transported in truck. Normally, jacking trucks isn't my thing. They are a bitch to stash and rarely yield anything worth the effort required. This time was different. I stalked this truck, watched it being loaded every week, tracked its routes, and wrote everything down. When I saw that it was being loaded with a particularly nice haul, I knew it was my golden opportunity and, you know, opportunity doesn't knock twice.

Which is probably what got me into trouble. Poor timing and all. I wasn't prepared for this opportunity, I picked a lackey with loose lips and now my ship might be sunk. If I get out of this one, I'm going to kill that guy.

Anyway, somehow, the dicks from Major Case found me. The Hulk and the Waif stood in my office last week, pretending to be interested in some property I was trying to sell in Maine. Playing the goofy husband and tolerant wife to a tee. They had me fooled and I like to believe that I'm pretty good at spotting a con. He kept hovering around her, intent on her every word and ignoring me. After I sent them on their way, brochures in hand, they didn't remain long in my mind. Sure, she was a looker, but they were so in love that there was no way I could have worked my way in there. Or so I thought.

Maybe I was mistaken.

* * *

I do so enjoy the fencing match that is an interrogation. The opponents dancing around each other, looking for weakness, looking for the coup de grace to finish the match before it starts. I have ended many a stint in the interrogation room with a crippling blow to the poor sucker who got the miserable task of trying to get a confession out of me. As I sat there, awaiting my adversaries, I figured this time it might be a challenge. I had heard of my capturers, legends that they are. If only I had paid more attention when they were talked about, I might not be sitting here now, fooled by their act and a victim of my own ignorance.

Detective Robert O. Goren, the Hulk, resident genius of MCS, had a reputation in the circles I traveled. He was alternately spoken of as a god or a devil, depending on the day of the week and the root he had hold of. He made enemies like some people make phone calls. But he also had influence, lots of it. I guess cops really do have quotas and he was hitting his, in spades.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I had also heard of his partner, the Waif, Detective Alexandra Eames. She's rumored to be as cunning as he is, in an entirely different and devastating way. She knew how to use her charm and her looks to her advantage, as evidenced by the Newlywed Act they pulled off in my office. And she got me; hook, line and sinker.

But maybe, just maybe, I can still get out of this. I wonder just how close the Dynamic Duo really is. If they are as close as they act, I'll be home for supper.

* * *

TBC 


	2. 2

X

_If I had you and I could give you your dreams – Dave Matthews Band_

X

"So, Mr. Jenkins, how are you enjoying your stay?" the Waif asked easily, as she took the seat proffered by her partner.

"Yes, do tell," the Hulk mumbled as he tossed his apparently ever-present portfolio on the table, "Bringing back memories?"

"Oh, come on, Detectives," I purred, leaning back, settling into my seat, "Surely you know the answer to that. Or else, why would you have asked?"

I watched as the Hulk lumbered around the room, circling like a giant, misshapen vulture awaiting the death of his next meal. I smiled, I knew this part well.

"Detective, do I look better from the back?" I chuckled, "Or are you trying to intimidate me?"

"Mr. Jenkins, I understand you used to work for the Atlantic City Police Department," Eames inquired, "and that you were fired for taking bribes. Is that correct?"

"Again, with the questions that I know you know the answers to. You have my file, wouldn't it just be easier to look in there rather than wasting your breath asking?" Leaning forward, I summoned up my most charming smile and waited for the next question.

For all the years I sat on the other side of the table, all the partners I worked with, the skells I collared, I still wasn't quite prepared for what happened next. One minute, I'm all smiles with the Waif, putting on the charm, the next minute, the Hulk is in my face, his massive bulk curled over my shoulder, his mouth inches from mine. I didn't know if he was going to kiss me or bite me.

"Answer the lady's questions," he whispered, "and cut the Casanova act. You aren't fooling anyone."

So, the Hulk thought he was in charge. Okay, I can go along with that, for now. "Yes, I used to be ACPD. Yes, I was fired for taking bribes. And yes, I am enjoying my stay. Happy?"

I couldn't help smirking as he unfolded himself from around me and resumed his pacing. Judging from the ease with which he found his pace again, I was not the first suspect he had used this ploy on before.

Defiantly, I began smiling at the Waif again, her partner and his theatrics be damned. What was he going to do, rough me up? Well, he could go right ahead, it would ruin their case and he knows it. I've got nothing to fear in this room, except the bad coffee.

"Detective, I'm sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name." My voice, all honey and butter, was sure to win a smile from a lady. And this one was no exception.

"Eames. And, in case your memory lapse isn't limited to myself," her eyes moved quickly to the Hulk by way for introduction, "that is my partner, Detective Goren. But, I'm sure you already knew that."

Well, turn about is fair play, after all. And it seemed only right that she would use my own words against me. Chuckling, "Yes, I did."

The Hulk took that as his cue to get back in my face, eyes locking onto mine. At least, this time, he didn't come over the top, opting, instead, to come at me from the left. "So, Mr. Jenkins, where were you on April 23rd," he asked, quietly, "around nine in the morning?"

Shaking my head, biting back my smart-ass answer, I gave him my very expensive alibi. "I was at a friend's place."

Pulling a chair over to sit next to me, he continued, "Really? And wh-what type of friend would this be? A female, per-perhaps?"

As the Hulk said this, I saw his eyes flash to the Waif and I thought I saw my chance. Well, here goes, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Why yes, Detective, a female friend," leaning towards the Waif, I continued, "a lovely lady that I see from time to time. Although, she is nothing compared to your partner."

I watched for a reaction from the Hulk and was quickly rewarded. Anger started to burn in his eyes. I knew I had him on the ropes and now was the time to push.

"Goren, your first name is Robert, right? May I call you Robert?" I steadied myself, preparing for his response to what I said next, "How about Bobby, may I call you that? You look like a Bobby. I'll bet the luscious Detective Eames calls you Bobby. How does that make you feel? Do you get a warm, tight feeling in your stomach? I know I do, just sitting here looking at her."

The Hulk was up, his chair flying out from under him. In his anger, his size seemed to increase, filling the room. I swallowed hard as he yanked me out of my seat by my collar and slammed me against the wall. Holding me there, my feet several inches from the ground, he leaned in close, baring his teeth.

"You will NOT speak of her that way," he growled, covering my face with spittle, "or, so help me, I wi-will…I'll…"

He dropped me then, turned and brushed past the Waif, seemingly oblivious to her presence for the first time since they had entered the room. She threw a penetrating look at me, and then followed him out, a puppy on a very short leash.

As I say back down, I started laughing, long and hard. That has worked out better then I thought. A home cooked meal appeared to be in my near future after all.

XX

TBC


	3. 3

A/N: So, am I the only person finding myself actually liking Jenkins? I hope not. I hope everyone else is having as much fun watching him as I am.

X

_I'm here without you, baby, but you're still on my lonely mind – 3 Doors Down_

X

God, what I wouldn't give for a smoke right now. For some reason, getting jammed up always makes the nicotine cravings worse. Guess the only way I'll ever quit smoking would be to quit living. Not much danger of that happening, I reckon.

So, where was I? Ah, yes, the lovely Detective Eames and the detestable Detective Goren. I wonder what's keeping them. She's probably out there stroking his ego, telling him that my behavior would have gotten anyone's hackles up. And she is more than welcome to believe that, although I would hope that she is smarter than that.

As for him, I'll bet he's moping. Using his best little puppy look on her so she won't be mad at him. And I'm sure that it's working. They are probably standing in the observation room right now, thick as thieves, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Gah, I'm getting nauseous just thinking about it. That was something I never understood when I was on the job. Whoever thought that mixed partnerships was a good idea had to have been crazy. They never stay platonic. I've seen it happen a dozen times; a tough case, trouble with the family, job stress and all of a sudden the partnership isn't chaste anymore.

Oh sure, things will go along well enough for a while, but then something happens, some catalyst, and the partnership is torn apart. Usually to the detriment of the department or unit they are working with. An observant supervisor can usually head that off, but how many of those are there on the job.

I know, I sound a bit jaded. Well, maybe I am. But the bribes were just the icing on the cake. My partner and I were more than friends. We kept it secret for a long time, but the little lies wear a relationship down and when things finally came to a head, the explosion was huge.

But, enough about me. I wonder where the lovebirds are.

X

"Ah, Bobby, how nice of you to remember that you left me in here." Smiling, I gesture to the chair he overturned earlier, "Would you care to have a seat?"

Rather than just sitting down, like a good boy, he spins the chair around and straddles it, "so, you fancy yourself a funny guy," he sneered, "does that work with the ladies?"

"Just ask your delicious partner." I was having a difficult time containing my laughter. "I'm sure she could enlighten you as to what works with the fairer sex."

Grinning, I waved to the two-way mirror, knowing that the Waif would not leave the Hulk unwatched after his little tantrum.

"So, tell me, Bobby, is the alluring Detective Eames single?" I leaned back, rather enjoying the red creeping up the Hulk's face. "Is she dating? Do you even have the balls to ask?"

"Mr. Jenkins, what do you say we talk about what you've been up to lately," the Hulk leaned over his portfolio, not meeting my eyes, "and leave my partner's personal life for another time?"

"Alright, Detective, if you insist. But first, perhaps I could have a cup of burned bullpen coffee?" I rested my forearms on the table, looking expectantly at the Hulk.

"Once we get this settled, Mr. Jenkins," he glanced up at me, his eyes betraying nothing of our previous topic of conversation, "you can have as much coffee as you'd like. But, until I get something from you, you'll get nothing from me."

Well, looks like the Hulk wants to play it hard. I wonder if he's ready, really ready, to get in the game. And I wonder if it'll be tag-team.

XX

TBC


	4. 4

_ I have nightmares I have dreams of you gone – Black Lab _

_X_

I settle in, ready to play my favorite game, "all right, Detective Goren, what do you want to know?"

The Hulk adjusts himself; pen held in that left-handed grip that makes my arm hurt looking at it. Pen poised above paper, "let's start with your alibi. Does your lady friend have a name?"

"Yes, she certain does," I chuckle. Why is it that some cops never learn about asking yes or no questions?

"Well?" He looks up, clearly irked by my literal answer to his question. Silly puppy dog, what did he expect?

"Oh, you mean you want to know her name," shaking my head in amusement. "Well, why didn't you say so? Her name is Alice Pierce." I motioned for his pen, "would you like me to spell it for you?"

The Hulk ignored my offer of help, "thank you. And her address?"

I leaned back for a moment, savoring what I was going to say next. Cops hate rich addresses. Rich people always causes problems with the Brass.

"101 W. End Ave, #513," I flash the Hulk my most charming smile. "That's the Park Hudson, in case you were wondering."

Flashing me a slightly scary smile of his own, he nods. "Not bad." He sets the pen down and looks at me. "You must be doing well to have a lady friend on the Upper West Side."

Grinning, I answer him sincerely, "I do alright. Real estate is decent work."

Closing his portfolio, the Hulk stands and starts pacing in front of the mirror, eyeing me. "Come now, Mr. Jenkins, how long are you going to continue with this charade?"

Drawing out the silence a few moments, I watch him pace. "What charade would that be?" I ask, innocently.

He stops directly across the table from me and leans down, trying to catch my eyes. "Your real estate charade."

"That all depends," I remark, reclining in the cold metal chair, folding my hands into my lap. "How long are you going to continue your charade? You can't fool me." I snicker softly, "I've been where you are now."

"Really? And where would that be?" He starts pacing again, although in a much smaller area this time.

"Oh, I think you know." I gesture towards the mirror, by way of indication. "But, if you'd like, we can always ask the exquisite Detective Eames." I smirk at the Hulk. "I'm sure she know exactly what charade I'm talking about."

Again, he stops his pacing: alighting, once more, in his chair. "Mr. Jenkins, I can assure you that neither I, nor my partner, have any idea what you are talking about." He reaches for his portfolio and opens it, again posed to write.

Too bad we are done talking about why I'm here. Won't he be surprised?

"Are you positive? Remember, I wasn't always a real estate broker. I've got a nose for these things." I curl my chest over my arms, matching his draped posture.

"Why don't you dazzle me with your insights?" His hand continues to hover over the paper, as if to mock me.

"Tell me, Detective, do you dream about her?" I lower my voice, causing him to lean forward slightly to hear me. "Is she there, behind your eyes, when you lay down in your cold, empty bed?"

I glance quickly towards the mirror, wondering what is going on back there. Is the Waif straining to hear his answer?

"Is her name the one on your lips when you finally succumb to loneliness and take matters into your own hand?" I nod knowingly at his silence. I've been where he is, after all. "What about the anonymous women that you pick up in bars, do they look like her? Do you weep after they leave because that hole in your heart hasn't been filled? Are they disgusted with you because you call out her name?"

I reach over to pat his hand, offering the comfort of someone who has felt the same pain. He jerks back, anger burning in his eyes. Just a little more and I should have him on his feet and at my throat again.

"Do you think she knows? Has she caught you looking at her when you think she's not paying attention? When your eyes meet, do you look away first? Are you afraid of what she'll see there?"

Slamming his portfolio shut, he is on his feet and shoving the table out of his way. Just as his hands reach my lapels, the door is thrown open by a man with gray-blonde hair, probably the captain. The Waif is standing behind him, a look of disgust in her eyes.

"Goren, out, now."

I wonder what I'll have for dinner tonight.

XX

TBC


	5. 5

* * *

_Cause there's nothing we can't get around together – Finger Eleven_

* * *

"Mr. Jenkins, do you mind if I call you William? All this formality just isn't working for me." The Waif smiled as she seated herself across from me, settling into the chair her partner had recently vacated. 

"Certainly," I winked at her, her current position of authority over me exciting my already agitated state. "In fact, I'd be honored. Do you prefer Alex or Alexandra? Or maybe I'll continue calling you Detective."

"That is entirely up to you, William. Whatever makes you feel comfortable." She pulled the Hulk's discarded portfolio to her and appeared to scan what he had written.

I smiled to myself, enjoying the lovely picture that was now positioned opposite me. "Would you like to pick up where your partner left off, Detective?"

"Actually, no," she glanced up, flashing me a dazzling smile while she uncapped her pen. "Let's talk about Karen Bowden."

Where did she get that name? What has she been doing while the Hulk was in here, wasting time? How much does she know?

"Karen who?" I asked, hoping that my panic wasn't being betrayed on my face. She hasn't had long enough to find anything out, has she?

"That name not ringing any bells with you?" She frowned disappointedly. "My mistake."

I've got to get her to let the subject of Karen go. I need a new root for her to tug on. I wonder if she's as sensitive as her loathsome partner is about their relationship.

"Tell me, Detective, have you recently been on leave? Perhaps something medical?" I looked her over appraisingly before continuing, "have you recently given birth?"

The look of shock and surprise on her face was worth the pain she had so recently caused me. The Waif reined it in quickly, but I still had plenty of time to commit it to memory.

"Don't look so surprised. You have a glow about you. And you don't look entirely comfortable with your body right now. Still trying to shed those extra pounds?" I leaned forward, closing the distance between us.

"I don't think that is any of your business, William," she pulled back from me, regaining her personal space.

"Let me guess, your partner was saddled with an inferior replacement while you were off playing at motherhood. It must have been a struggle, to be sure, for both him and your replacement. Is that why he is so quick to anger?" I pause a minute, letting my words sink in, "does he fear that you don't need him anymore?"

"Mr. Jenkins, please rest assured that my partner knows he has nothing to fear, especially from the likes of you." She opened the portfolio again, clearly hoping to get back to business. "Now, shall we talk about a Mr. Kenneth Conway, who says that you paid him five thousand dollars to drive a stolen truck?"

"So, it's back to Mr. Jenkins, is it? Did I hit a nerve?" I smugly nod towards the mirror, "maybe you are the one who is afraid, afraid that he has learned to live without you?"

"Mr. Jenkins, William, why this obsession with Detective Goren and myself? Seems a bit odd, given your current circumstances. Do I detect some envy on your part?" She glanced over her shoulder, towards the mirror.

"Call it professional curiosity. Old habits really do die hard." I looked up just as the door opened, catching a glimpse of the Hulk before the door closed again.

"Pardon me, William," she rose, picking up the portfolio. "I'll be right back with you. Do make yourself comfortable."

She turned and left, opening the door just wide enough for me to see the Hulk and the man I saw earlier, which must be their captain. The Hulk looked at me briefly as he was putting a cell phone back into his pocket, an insane looking smirk on his face.

Suddenly I'm not all that hungry.

* * *

TBC 


	6. 6

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. It's a battle royale, Goren vs. Anti-Goren (Thanks Tres) for the world heavyweight championship.

* * *

_Whenever I say your name, let there be no mistake that day will last forever - Sting_

* * *

I should have known better. Never let your guard down in an interrogation room, not matter what side of the table you are on. If you do, your foe can quickly get the upper hand and defeat you. And defeat in this game can cost you everything.

I was startled awake by the slamming of the door. As I blinked my eyes clear, the Hulk moved in, taking advantage of my dazed state.

"Enjoying your nap, Mr. Jenkins?" His breath; smelling of coffee, mints and just a hint of cigarette smoke; wafted over me, bringing me completely awake.

"Well, I was. You think I could get a cup of coffee now, Detective?" I rubbed my eyes, forcing the last vestiges of sleep from them.

"Sure. Would you like a donut, too?" His smirk told me all I needed to know. I wasn't getting anything from him. Not until I gave him something.

"Don't you think the whole coffee and donuts thing is a bit cliché, Detective?" I always did recover my wits quickly when I woke up in a strange place.

"Only if we are talking about powdered sugar donuts, Mr. Jenkins." He again perched himself across the table from me.

That chair was seeing more ass action than a tranny hooker on a payday weekend.

"So, no coffee, I see. Oh well, a guy can hope." I sprawled back in my chair, waiting for the questions to begin again.

"Mr. Jenkins, let's talk about Karen Bowden. You told Detective Eames that you didn't recognize the name, which doesn't surprise me. Bowden was her married name. You knew her as Karen Flynn," he looked expectantly at me, waiting to see if I'd lie.

"Yes. I know Karen Flynn. And you damned well know that. She was my partner." Why was he referring to her in the past tense? Did something happen?

"Yes. You and Detective Flynn were partners for four years in Vice. You had an impressive closure and conviction rate. Then something happened. The record shows that disciplinary reports were issued for both you and Detective Flynn and you, Mr. Jenkins, were transferred to Organized Crime. The records don't go into detail, but I can make some guesses, if you don't mind listening for a few more minutes." He leaned back, awaiting my answer.

"I don't have much choice, do I, Detective?" I forced a smile, "so, do continue."

He stood and began pacing as he talked, slipping into an easy gait, a tiger stalking his prey. I'm dead.

"You and Detective Flynn were close friends, as partners become when they work well together. You completed each other's sentences and worked flawlessly together on cases. You were birds of a feather and used it to your advantage on more than a few occasions. Then, something changed. You became more than partners, more than friends. You became lovers. You shared everything else, why not a bed." He hesitated; his arms crossed, one hand held to his mouth; than looked at me to see if he was hitting his target.

He was. I felt my eyes tearing up as I remembered those days, short as they were and so long ago.

He resumed his gait, continuing, "But something happened. Maybe the strain of keeping your relationship a secret began to weigh on you both. Your work became erratic, disruptive to the rest of the unit. And life at home became unbearable. You fought about everything, frequent screaming matches the norm. Finally, your supervisor had enough and censured both of you. Did you request the transfer?"

I just stared at him. He was right. Completely. How did he know? And why is he looking at me like that. Oh, right, he asked a question. "Yes, I did."

He nodded, "that's what I thought. Didn't work, did it? You thought about her all the time and your work continued to suffer. But you're stubborn, you refused to quit. So you did the next best thing. You got yourself fired. And you moved away from Atlantic City. But you have never forgotten her, have you? How long from the time of your transfer until you were fired?"

"Two months," I sat, shaking my head. "How do you know?"

"Did you ever see her after your transfer?" He stood across the table from me, his head cocked to the side.

"No. I called, but she refused to speak to me. Said I had ruined her life. Finally, I just couldn't bear it any more and I stopped calling, tried not to think about her." I laid my head on my arms, hiding my tears, my weakness.

"But you never stopped thinking about her. Everything you have done since then has been with Karen in mind. Even now, she rules your life. Do you know why?" He pulled the chair over and sat down next to me.

"No." What more could I say, I had no idea why she never left my mind.

"Karen Flynn married two years ago, became Karen Bowden. Last month, she passed away, breast cancer. She left behind a husband; Jeff Bowden; and a four-year-old daughter; Stacy. Do the math, Mr. Jenkins." He cocked his head again, catching my eyes as he said this.

"Oh my God! No. Why? Why di..did she never tell me?" I lost it, my pride be damned. I broke down and cried like a baby. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know, just let me see my daughter." Sobbing, "I…I have a daughter."

* * *

I told you that the circles I ran in were influential and that is true. I gave Detectives Goren and Eames enough ammunition to destroy a small European country. The questioning went long into the night, but I survived it. 

Detective Goren kept up his end of the deal. He kept my coffee cup full and he showed me pictures of my daughter that he had gotten from Karen's husband.

As I was being led out of the interrogation room the next morning, I saw Detectives Eames and Goren standing together, in deep conversation. I had a question I needed answered, so I asked the officer to stop for a moment.

"Detective Goren, " I called, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure, William," he smiled, "and I'll answer if I can."

"Was I right about you? Or were you playing me from the very beginning" I waited, my head hung from exhaustion, for his answer.

He looked down at his partner and smiled. Then, bringing that smile to bear on me, he gave me an answer I wasn't expecting. "Yes."

Not understanding his answer, I pressed harder, "to which?"

He only stood there, that grin only adding to my confusion. Fine, he can have it his way.

Smiling, I turned to Detective Eames, "Detective, you should make him say your name."

Grinning at her partner, she replied, "Don't worry, William."

I nodded to the officer, ready to lie down and get a few hours of sleep before court. I glanced over my shoulder one last time to see the Hulk and the Waif, Detectives Goren and Eames, smiling at each other, another day's work done.

* * *

A/N – Well, that was fun. I'm interested to hear what you all thought of how that turned out. That was not the ending that I had planned out, but that is the ending that wanted to be written. 

Oh yes, this is my variation on a theme for the March AI fic challenge, specifically;

4 - New Guy - A new detective joins the Major Case squad. His new   
partner gives him the lowdown on the other detectives and there is  
plenty of gossip at the water cooler. A third person's POV on Bobby &   
Alex, the rules, the rumors and the truth.

A perp's POV just seemed like more fun.


End file.
